Tokyo Ghoul Kuki Urie Mga Nobela at Kwento

Every time I miscarry, Adrian Sadler brings home a new woman who eerily resembles his first love. He makes me put the rubber on him, forces me to watch their fevered passion, and then orders me to bring warm water for their intimate cleanup. I do everything I'm told, begging for just one night a month with him. That is, until I accidentally tear his favorite lover Peggy Olson's lingerie. That night, Adrian streams my humiliation for the world to see. He drags me onto the bed, twists my body to expose me fully to the camera, and pins me beneath an avalanche of shame. "Did you think her lingerie was suggestive? What about now? Look at yourself. Do you think you are any better? You love crawling into my bed, don't you? I'll help you get your fill. Maybe one man isn't enough to satisfy you. Why don't I call in ten men tomorrow?" As punishment, Adrian throws me outside, in my birthday suit, in the courtyard. Blood slowly pools beneath me. I experience my tenth miscarriage. I look for Derek Sadler and say, "I promised to help your family to repay your kindness. I tried my best. Ten miscarriages later, whatever blessing I once had is gone. I'll never have children again. Today, I've come to say goodbye."

That winter, the Silver Moon Pack holds its annual ski hunt. An avalanche strikes without warning, and the three of us are trapped in a lift pod. There's only one thermal suit left. My mate, Ryan Mercer, gives the thermal suit to me. I survive, but his childhood sweetheart, Eve Hurst, is buried forever beneath the endless white of the mountain. No body is ever found. However, he gazes at me with devotion and says, "Celine Bartlett, you are the love of my life." I soak in those words, believing them. But I have no idea this is the beginning of my nightmare. For the next five years, he speaks to me only with cruelty. "You killed Eve. You're a murderer!" He locks me in the basement and whips me with lashes soaked in wolfsbane. Then, he pretends to show pity and feeds me with a silver fork. When I refuse, he stabs me with silver nails across my legs, carving deep red lines into my skin. "This is what you owe her, and you will repay it!" When I ask for a reject, he stabs a silver dagger into my chest, dragging me into death with him. When I open my eyes, I find myself back on the day of the avalanche. This time, I hand the survival gear to Eve without hesitation. This time, I owe her nothing. And now, I want to see whether they will get their happy ending without me around.

My Vampire fiancé, Vincent, was the powerful prince of New York's most influential coven. He had lived for centuries and was notoriously ruthless, yet he bestowed upon me, and only me, every honor imaginable. But one month before our Union Ceremony, he suddenly insisted on postponing it. The reason was his childhood friend, Camilla, was dying from a rare condition known as Bloodline Degeneration. To repay a life debt from long ago, he wanted to hold a mock wedding with her to fulfill her last wish to wear a wedding gown. I refused outright. It was a flagrant violation of coven dignity. But he pressured me relentlessly, using a supposed ancient code of honor as emotional blackmail. Then, two weeks before the ceremony, I received an anonymous email containing an advanced blood analysis report. Only then did I learn that he hadn't just been preparing a wedding; he had already secretly formed a Mutual Blood Bond with her, a pact that would bind their lives together for eternity. In that moment, I finally understood. My two centuries of devotion to him had been nothing more than a joke. And so, I called off our union and set fire to everything he had ever given me. On the day of the ceremony, I traveled to Europe's Supreme Institute for Vampiric Research in Italy and took charge of the Institute's most secret and critical project. From that day forward, I would have nothing more to do with the noble prince. We were finished.

Anthony Vitale—my husband’s older brother—was found dead after a fall at one of the family’s private properties on Long Island. He died before the men around him could even call it an accident. My husband, Enzo Vitale, stepped in as head of the family. At the same time, the senior men of the family made the decision for him—Enzo would take responsibility for his brother’s widow. His mother, Donna Victoria Vitale—the one truly running things behind the scenes—made it clear in the study at the estate. “Sophia is alone now,” she said. “You take her in. First, to carry on your brother’s bloodline. Second, to keep her under this family’s protection. This is family law.You don’t get a say.” That night, Enzo held me close, his voice low and soothing. “Elena, I’ll give her one child. That’s it. Once she’s pregnant, I’m done with her. You’re the only one who matters to me.” I believed him. But things didn’t stay that way. At first, he spent one night a month with her. Then it turned into one night a month with me. That was when I knew—he wasn’t mine anymore. The day Sophia announced her pregnancy at the private medical office the Vitales used, Enzo slipped the Vitale heirloom onto her finger—a black onyx signet ring engraved with the Vitale crest. It was the same ring he gave me when we got engaged. And he did it in front of everyone. That was the moment I knew—it was time to walk away.

My mother-in-law, Teresa Hawke, said she was trapped inside her burning villa. I called my husband, Asher Jensen, begging him to save her. But he was too busy at some bar, flirting with his childhood sweetheart, Melanie Lanner. It wasn't until I begged him, over and over, that he finally went to save Teresa. But Melanie was snatched from that same bar, tortured, killed, and dumped. He acted like none of it mattered until I got pregnant. Then out of nowhere, he threw it all back on me, saying it was my fault. Asher pulled every string he could to bankrupt my family, driving Mom and Dad to leap to their deaths. Then he rounded up a gang of violent psychopaths and threw me in with them. I begged again and again, but he just watched me with that dead stare. "You'll suffer like Mel did before she died! She left this world in agony. Why should you get to live? That's not fair." 99 stab wounds—that was how many it took before I finally bled out and died. And then, I woke up, right back on the day Teresa screamed for help from inside that burning villa.

I was his mate. He rejected me. Then he buried me alive. Christina Black was nothing a wolfless omega no one protected. Until the day she discovered she was fated to Alpha Kael Moore. But instead of claiming her, he chose power. Framed for treason, rejected before the entire pack, and sentenced to death, Christina should have died that night. She didn’t. She came back. Stronger. Colder. Untouchable. Now a powerful Beta with something ancient and dangerous inside her, Christina returns to the very pack that destroyed her only to find Kael on his knees, his pack dying, and the only cure… is her. He once buried her. Now he has to beg her. But revenge isn’t simple when the bond between them refuses to break and this time, she’s the one holding the power.

In 1612, he couldn’t save her. In 2026, he might not want to. Elias Thorne was a man of maps and measurements, the King’s most trusted surveyor, until the smoke of the Lancashire witch trials choked the life out of everything he loved. Catherine wasn’t a witch—she was just an innocent woman caught in the gears of a superstitious world. When Elias was turned into something monstrous that same year, he didn't see it as a curse; he saw it as a deadline. He had forever to find a way to bring her back. For four centuries, Elias moved through the shadows of history, building an empire of wealth and dark influence. He hunted every myth, funded every occult discovery, and bled for every lead—all to find a soul that refused to return. He grew bitter, his heart hardening into the very stone of the London streets he walked. He eventually gave up on the heavens and the hells, settling into a life of cold, immortal apathy. Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, he sees her. She’s standing in line for coffee, wearing headphones and a denim jacket, looking exactly like the woman he watched die under a grey Jacobean sky. She has no memory of the fire, the maps, or the man who has spent four hundred years hating the world for her sake. Now, Elias faces a choice: Walk away and let her live the peaceful life he once prayed for, or reclaim a love that doesn’t belong to him anymore. But Catherine has secrets of her own—and in the modern world, the ghosts of 1612 are finally starting to catch up.

For five years, I let my husband’s mistress take whatever she wanted. My birthday. His time. His attention. The tenderness that used to belong to me. I even told myself I could survive watching my own son choose her over me, because a damaged family still had to be better than none at all. It wasn’t. This year, my husband took his mistress away for their birthday trip, and my son ran straight into her arms and called her Mom. That was the moment I finally understood something I should have learned five years ago: no matter how much of myself I gave to that family, I would never be the one they chose. So I filed for divorce. None of them believed I could really walk away. My husband thought I was bluffing. His mistress thought she had won. My son did not even look back. None of them believed I could really walk away. Then a call came from overseas: Matteo Bellandi’s wife was dead. This time, I left them with nothing but my ashes.

Three years ago, I broke up with my girlfriend—Audrey Hades—while she was on the verge of going bankrupt. Immediately after, I got engaged to her biggest rival, Clara Sterling. Later, she turns into a celebrated and adored rising star of the business world. She allows people around her to mock and label me as a gold-digger who leeches off rich women. But what she doesn't know is that I've been dead for three years.

"I died with the taste of jasmine and betrayal on my tongue. I woke up with a debt to a monster." Elara Vance was the perfect noble daughter—quiet, dutiful, and blind. She gave her heart to the charming Lord Caspian de Montfort and her trust to her "saintly" step-sister, Lyra. Her reward? A slow-acting poison in her tea and the sight of her husband prying the family signet ring from her cold, paralyzed finger. But death is not the end for those with a soul full of rage. In the misty aisles of the Shop of Lost Regrets, Elara meets the Archivist—a terrifying entity who offers her a second chance. The price? She must return to her sixteen-year-old self and complete a series of increasingly dangerous tasks. If she succeeds, she gets her revenge. If she fails, her heart stops forever. To survive her murderous family, Elara must secure the protection of the only man they fear: Kaelen Thorne, the "Monstrous Duke" of the North. She proposes a marriage of convenience—a cold, blood-bound contract built on secrets and strategy. As Elara and Kaelen journey to the frozen border, they enter a deadly game of cat and mouse. Between the Duke’s ancient curse, Caspian’s obsessive pursuit, and the Archivist’s mysterious demands, Elara must navigate a world where love is a weakness and information is the only currency. In this life, Elara is no longer a pawn. She is the player. And she will burn the kingdom to the ground to ensure her enemies never taste jasmine again.